So, I missed doing this in April and thought I'd try to go through the prompts starting June 1st instead. Here is my Day 1. (Man, it hurt! Kinda like running a marathon after sitting on the couch for a year!)
Evidence
A pile of rubber slippers at the door.
Washed shirts, shorts and bvds, hanging in the carport,
hiding from the rain.
A calico cat in the red cinder driveway
eyeballing the gang of myna birds as they strut and pick at
leftover rice, tossed in the grass.
The wild pigs have to work a little harder.
We wake to an excavated yard, snout-shaped furrows
evidence of the search for grubs and roots.
High-stepping roosters with strong, pale legs like
distance runners, police the fence line, trying out their
new voices.
Somewhere, a sad dog barks and howls. Somewhere,
a weed wacker hums, a generator starts, a gun goes off.
At night, there are so many stars in the sky, I feel drunk.
We haven't given up. Not yet, anyway.
The proof is in the rusty coffee cans lined up on the porch,
Fun prompt! Here's a piece:
To say nothing about the red poinsettia,
or the two cardinals at the feeder,
especially not the red.
First of all-- I love this whole idea. Here is the title and the first two lines of mine:
Morning Conversations
Light leaves language on the body of cedars
leaf litter rises and falls like the breath
I love this prompt.
Life intervened, but I did get a few tentative lines from yesterday's prompt
Thank you, Nancy!! Here's my title and first two lines:
"Mary with the open hands"
As a girl my mother taught me to make
a fist when our Rottweiler lunged open-
Dandy prompt. Thank you.
See Me
The wide wooden bench
Invites her to sit
Soak in sunshine
Like the parsnips
Like the pink hydrangeas
The nearby chard and kale
Twists of gray dreadlocks
Fall beneath the brim
Of her floppy straw hat
Clouded eyes above the red mask
Survey the scene
Withered fingers jingle keys
Their clink announcing
I am here
So, I missed doing this in April and thought I'd try to go through the prompts starting June 1st instead. Here is my Day 1. (Man, it hurt! Kinda like running a marathon after sitting on the couch for a year!)
Evidence
A pile of rubber slippers at the door.
Washed shirts, shorts and bvds, hanging in the carport,
hiding from the rain.
A calico cat in the red cinder driveway
eyeballing the gang of myna birds as they strut and pick at
leftover rice, tossed in the grass.
The wild pigs have to work a little harder.
We wake to an excavated yard, snout-shaped furrows
evidence of the search for grubs and roots.
High-stepping roosters with strong, pale legs like
distance runners, police the fence line, trying out their
new voices.
Somewhere, a sad dog barks and howls. Somewhere,
a weed wacker hums, a generator starts, a gun goes off.
At night, there are so many stars in the sky, I feel drunk.
We haven't given up. Not yet, anyway.
The proof is in the rusty coffee cans lined up on the porch,
filled with gardenia starts, fat with buds.